Travelogue #1-Western Siberian Wedding
Western Siberia,
Soviet Union dissolved,
Western capital welcome
oil projects abundant.
Old oil town, five story shelters, sandy streets.
One restaurant, good for all.
Reservations for Saturday
wedding underway, music playing, laughter.
We look at them, they look at us
could have been Wisconsin.
Dollars and rose to head table
two bottles of champaigne in return
we are part of the wedding party
we danced with the bride.
Leaving, father of the bride shook hands.
'Would you like a video of this evening?
One hundred fifty dollars.'
Nouveau riche, big bear alert, watch your shirt.
poem by Jim Norausky
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Related quotes
The First Miracle (Bible Poems for Children)
The wedding party had begun,
Mary looked for Jesus, her
son.
They had ran out of wine,
The wedding party could not
dine.
She asked Jesus, solve this
somehow,
He simply said, my time is
not now.
His mothers face was all
gloom,
As he looked across the room.
Six empty jars in corner sat,
Jesus said. fetch me that.
Fill with water, bring to me,
New wine for the crowd to see.
The bride grooms father, first
to taste,
He told the crowd in haste.
The best wine I've ever had,
The bride groom was, no longer
sad.
The wedding party lasted all
night,
The bride and groom, smiled in
delight.
poem by Heather Burns
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Wedding
By the country road I was going silent.
It was deserted and long in the view.
The accordeons had started playing suddenly,
And the silence waved her hands, being confused.
And there was wedding, wedding, wedding singing,
And was dancing.
And wings were carrying it far and far.
And there was a little place to wedding funning!
Was not enough place in the earth and sky!
Under play of the rural orchestra the wind joked
With the bride's white veil trying to twine.
The bridegroom was so serious, the bride was
Inconceivably, amazingly young.
The troikas passed by with the sound ringing,
* troika - three horses, harnessed together
And I felt the breath of spring, fresh and new.
I was going alone and unmarried,
And regretted of me being not a groom.
Somewhere was wedding, wedding, wedding singing
And was dancing.
And wings were carrying it far and far.
And there was a little place to wedding funning!
Was not enough place in the earth and sky!
poem by Robert Rozhdestvensky, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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A Jewish Wedding
Jane Doze - A Jewish Wedding
By JaneDoze
Hi, I'm Jane Doze and I have a story to tell you...
I have not been to many weddings. This one was pretty funny. My brother had poison oak and his face was swelled up so big he couldn't see out of his eyes. He had to walk around with an ice pack on his face all day. He was in the groom’s party so; he was wearing a tuxedo too!
My uncle was confused and said to me during the ceremony, ' I didn't know we were Jewish? ' I had to tell him that we aren't.
It all went by pretty fast actually. The Rabbi had the Bride and Groom sign the papers and then everyone had to pose for pictures.
I reflected how weeks before, I had helped one of the maids of honor make the party favors.
She took Hershey’s kisses and taped them together to make roses. They turned out really good. There was one on every plate in the reception room. I was so proud to have helped.
When the pictures were finally over, we all were so hungry and happy to go inside. As we approached the reception room, someone came out into the hall and said to the Bride, ' The Rabbi has eaten all the party favors! '
The Bride said to the Groom, ' See, I told you something bad would happen. It always does, even after all the wedding planning! '
She was a pretty good sport. The Bride had someone escort the Rabbi to his car, while her bridesmaids went and tried to arrange what was left of the party favors. They placed them into vases, a few here, and a few there.
Then, the Bride and Groom cut the cake to the music of the mission impossible theme. They even wore goggles and bibs. It was an awesome day even though my brother couldn't see a thing.
Moral to the Story: Never leave a Rabbi in a room full of temptation
poem by Patricia Dobrosipearson
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Weddings - Some observations
an angelic smile
on the face of his lovely bride
the groom is ecstatic
the fairyland feel
twinkling stars and soft music
a garden wedding
the bride's dress sparkles
as she dances the polka
the spotlight is on her
the flower girls skip
to the music showering
confetti on all
A unique three tier cake
That took ages and patience
Is one of its kind
smiles and champagne
flow freely as guests mingle
and enjoy the party
the last such occasion
took place thirty years ago
may this one be happier
PS: Inspired by the Royal Wedding
poem by Sandra Martyres
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Utilitarians
You mislead me into believing that I am invited to this
Wedding party, I do not demand that i be furnished a copy of the wedding invitation
With my name on it, trusting you that the invitation is true,
So when I handed my gift to the bride and the groom
their
Eyes ask for my name and well,
thank me for the gift
When the truth is you are only interested for the free
Ride that I have given
for all three of you, liars!
the bride and groom do not even know my name
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Poet's Bride
The poet's bride is a beautiful women
And she is looking so beautiful in her purple wedding dress
But the weather was beautiful
And they were very lucky
But at 12: 00 pm on that they the poet married his bride
Which was his wife to be
And now I had finaly a family again
Which I was looking forward too
We also got beautiful wedding gifts
So we were very blessed by God I believed
My father in law was a man that was 69years old I believe
And my mother was a women that was at least 73 years old I believe
poem by Aldo Kraas
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How I Became Known As Dodgy Dave
From time to time people ask me
how I got the name Dodgy Dave
and why I take no offence at it.
The story starts about six or seven years ago
when I joined a Western Re-Enactment Society.
I went to help build a western town
that eventually became know as Deadwood.
As the date for near completion came
the only building left to be finished was the Church.
The original builders had left it only half built.
The owner of the farm
on which the town is built
wanted it finished for our grand opening day.
Someone suggested that because of all the help,
I had given, why I don’t take it on
and they would help me finish it,
but I needed a town name
that would go along with the building,
I thought for a moment and then said
what about Reverend Mr Black
after the old Kingston Trio song.
So for a couple of years
I became known as Rev. Mr Black.
Two of my friends Buck and Caroline
(better know to one and all as Caz)
were planning their wedding.
They were going to have an official ceremony
on the Friday and on the Saturday;
they were to have another wedding in the town.
They asked if I would marry them in the town ceremony.
I told them I would be honoured.
Caz then went around telling everyone,
family and friends
that Dodgy Dave the vicar was going to marry them,
but he isn’t dodgy,
it’s just my pet name for him.
Soon everybody started calling me Dodgy Dave.
However, with every nice story
somehow sadness always intervenes.
Six weeks before their wedding,
this pretty woman who had renamed me Dodgy Dave
died at the tender age of thirty.
We held a wake for her in the town
on the day she and Buck were to marry.
It was a sad affair,
but her memory remains with me
every time someone calls me Dodgy Dave.
There are so many memories attached to that name.
It was never given out of malice,
but out of friendship sincere.
Now the name Dodgy Dave
has become very dear to me.
I use it all the time,
because when I do it reminds me
of the young woman with fair hair
whose friendship I treasured so
and I never want to let the memory of her go.
So there you have it
the story behind the christening
of me to Dodgy Dave
11 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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Water Tender
The river
has not entered the house yet.
I pack framed photographs:
weddings, babies,
dead uncles, and grandparents,
set aside ceramic eggs,
balanced on wooden stands,
to reach the wedding cake couple,
equidistant between two photographs.
My mother,
in her borrowed wedding dress,
holding a bouquet of artificial flowers,
whiter than Aunt Rose Mary's silk skirt.
My father,
in his Navy uniform, bearing
the insignia of a Water Tender,
his cap worn tilted to the right.
Standing midpoint,
the wedding cake couple
represents their union.
Flesh colored paint overlaps
the neckline of the bride,
executed too quickly.
The groom's black top-hat
is worn, a wedding ring shape
encircles the edge of the crown.
My mother is dead,
my father has remarried. He's left
behind the photographs, the eggs,
the wedding cake couple.
The river enters an open door.
I salvage what I can.
poem by Mary Agnes Dalrymple
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Nouveau Riche
I’d rather be a nouveau riche
than some impoverished veteran.
I’m looking for a nouveau niche
that’s hopefully a better ’un
than that which I now occupy,
without resources that the rich
have, whether old or nouveau––I
don’t really think it matters which.
Too long I’ve been a nouveau poor.
It isn’t fun, you don’t get used
to poverty, the only cure
that gives my poverty a boost
is taking out new credit cards
that have a pleasing plastic glow,
ignoring all the crass canards
I hear from those to whom I owe
a fortune. They must know I won’t
repay them––can’t when nouveau poor!
Repayment cannot be my wont
till I have nouveau riche allure
to help me keep up with expenses,
impoverished by nouveau schemes.
Till creditors come to their senses
I can’t fulfill my nouveau dreams,
a man who, though a nouveau poor,
would rather he were nouveau riche,
though unrealistic, to be sure,
more real than those men who eat quiche.
12/27/99,3/30/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Western Union
(words & music by tepper - bennet)
Western union
Oh, western union clickety clack
I had a fight with my baby
Ooh how sorry I am
She wont talk to me no how
Im gonna send a telegram
Western union oh yeah
Send my lovin baby back to me
She wont open my letters
She wont answer the phone
When Im a-ringin her doorbell
She says there aint nobody home
Western union oh yeah
Send my lovin baby back to me
Western union oh yeah
Send my lovin baby back to me
I love you is my message
Just three words and no more
If she wont let you deliver
Slip it underneath her door
Western union oh yeah
Send my lovin baby back to me
Western union oh yeah
Send my lovin baby back to me
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O Jenny Dear, I’ve Courted Lang
O Jenny dear, I've courted lang,
I've telt my tale and sung my sang,
And yet I fear I'm i' the wrang,
For ye'll na mak a wedding o't.
In winter when the frost and snaw
Wi' bitter blast around wad blaw,
I'd o'er the moor, nor mind it a',
In hopes ye'd mak a wedding o't.
And gin ye smil'd or kindly spak,
It smooth'd the road, and help'd me back;
I thought nae answer I wad tak,
For we wad mak a wedding o't.
Now, when I gae to kirk or fair,
The laddies scoff, the lassies jeer;--
``Is this poor Jock?--the good be here!
For sure he's made a wedding o't.
What is become of a' his fun?
Alak! his joyfu' days are done;
Or else he's pawn'd his dancing shoon,
Sin he has made a wedding o't.
Sure marriage is a dreadfu' thing!
Ye mind 'tis only i' the spring
That little birdies chirp and sing,
Or, till they've made a wedding o't.''
Then up spak honest Johnny Bell:
``My bairns, I ance was young mysel;
I've mony a blithsome tale to tell
Sin first I made a wedding o't;
My Tibby was a winsome bride,--
Nay, yet she is her auld man's pride!
Nae faut i' her I ever spyed,
Sin first we made a wedding o't:
Ilk day we live we fonder grow,
Though buckl'd fifty years ago;
Here's comfort for ye, young ones a',
Then haste ye, mak a wedding o't.
poem by Susanna Blamire
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A Perfect Day, September 18,2010
Wedding vows of devotion are spoken
on this day… a day witnessed happily
The beginning of a glorious life of harmony
celebrated with close friends and family
A fine reception is planned to honor the pair
a radiant bride and groom… giving opportunity
for all who are gathered to rejoice and mingle
A time to share laughter and toast to unity
Guests are assembled and anxiously await
With spontaneous applause… hearts gladden
Here's the couple and their wedding party…
wearing black tails, gossamer lace, and silky satin
'It is all like a fairy tale… everything is perfect, '
said the proud mother of the bride… beaming
Wishing that the celebration could go on forever…
as the last dance concludes a splendid evening
The vibrant colors of the day have faded away
Still the sounds of joy continue to reverberate
With eyes closed, gilded thoughts are absorbed
into a pillow of unseen dreams that slowly sedate
9/20/2010
poem by Theresa Ann Moore
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I'll promise to go easier on drinking and to get to bed earlier, but not for you, fifty thousand dollars, or two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars will I give up women. They're too much fun.
An Old Fashioned Wedding
Interpolated in 1966 revival]
[FRANK:]
We'll have an old-fashioned wedding
Blessed in the good old-fashioned way
I'll vow to love you forever
You'll vow to love and honor and obey
Somewhere in some little chapel
Someday when orange blossoms bloom
We'll have an old-fashioned wedding
A simple wedding for an old-fashioned bride and groom
[ANNIE:]
I wanna wedding in a big church with bridesmaids and flower girls
A lot of ushers in tailcoats, reporters and photographers
A ceremony by a bishop who will tie the knot and say
"Do you agree to love and honor?" Love and honor, yes, but not obey
I wanna wedding ring surrounded by diamonds in platinum
A big reception at the Waldorf with champagne and caviar
I wanna wedding like the Vanderbilts have, ev'rything big, not small
If I can't have that kind of a wedding I don't wanna get married at all
[Coda:]
[FRANK:]
We'll have an old-fashioned wedding
[ANNIE:]
If it's not a big wedding I don't wanna get married at all
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now You're Here
No, we don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here
No, we don’t care where you come from
Have a beer
We don’t care if you are black or white or
Of another hue
Now you’re here in Western Sydney
Now you’re part of Western Sydney
Now all over Western Sydney
We love you.
We are very proud of our diversity
Out on the streets it’s very clear to see
We don’t care if you’re a Christian or a Jew
Or a Bhuddist or Islamic or Hindu
‘Cos we don’t care where you come from
We don’t care where you come from
We don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here.
We’re very proud of long history
And we pay respect to Aborigines
And there’s just one thing I’ll tell ya
Yes, to you and other fellas
That we don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here.
No, we don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here
No, we don’t care where you come from
Have a beer
We don’t care if you are black or white or
Of another hue
Now you’re here in Western Sydney
Now you’re part of Western Sydney
Now all over Western Sydney
We love you.
We’re proud of where we are going
You can see
We’re using all our creativity
To build a better future
And we’ll get there soon we betcha
‘Cos we don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here.
No, we don’t care where you come from
Have a beer
We don’t care if you are black or white or
Another hue
Now you’re here in Western Sydney
Now you’re part of Western Sydney
Now all over Western Sydney
We love you.
Now you’re here in Western Sydney
Now you’re part of Western Sydney
Now all over Western Sydney
We love you.
poem by David Keig
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Shotgun Wedding
(roy hammond)
People were standing, all around
At a shot gun wedding, here in this town
And Im a victim oh yea
Of a shotgun wedding
Cause your fathers got a gun
And there aint no place to run
Shotgun wedding and oh listen to me
Well I got to find a job
You, me, baby makes three
Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, wedding oh yea
Cause your fathers got a gun
And there aint no place to run
Shotgun wedding
And all I could hear that day was
Do you take this woman
To be your lawful wedded wife
My my my my shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, shotgun wedding
I looked around
I looked around
And all I could see was a shotgun wedding....listen
But I tried to run from town
But her mother tracked me down
She said before I meet my maker,
Some mans gonna make an honest woman of my daughter
So it might as well be you
Oh daddy may be poor
But he owns a forty forty
Shotgun wedding
And oh Im walking up the aisle right now
Here comes the bride singing
Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, shotgun.....yea yeaaaa
I could of run away oh no I could be living high
Nobody could stop me now oh shotgun, shotgun
Just give me one more chance
Let me hear that bass boys that bass boys
Breaking my heart
Breaking my heart
Breaking my heart........
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scottish Dance
I once had myself a Scottish Lassie
She then became my joy and pride
Then one-night she gave me Scottish ale
Then she became my Scottish bride
~We then danced around the table
We danced across the floor
We danced and danced all night long
And then we drank a little more~
She enjoyed to go out clubbing
Her family and mates I would meet
She was so exciting and loving
And when I grabbed her she said I was cheek...
I once had myself a Scottish Lassie
She was also my Scottish bride
She fed me Scottish eggs and Haggis
I got so sick I thought I had nearly died.
~So we danced around the table
We danced across the floor
We danced and danced all night long
And then we ate a little more.~
She took me out dancing
Where I would meet her friends and mates
She would drink and dance all night long
How I wished to go back to the states...
I once had myself a Scottish Lassie
She was also my Scottish wife
She told me she loved me with all of her heart
And together we would share the same life.
~So we danced around the table
We danced across the floor
We danced and danced all night long
And then we loved a little more~
I would take her out drinking
Every Friday and Saturday night
One thing she loved more than drinking or singing
My lassie she loved to argue and fight...
I once had myself a Scottish Lassie
But that was many years ago
I will always remember my Scottish Lassie
And the places that we use to go
~We would dance around the table
We would dance across the floor
We would dance and dance all night long
And then we would dance a little more~
Now I am alone and single
But her memories and thoughts I do keep
I remember the good-times and not the bad
So now I smile and I never weep
~So I dance around the table
I dance across the floor
I dance and dance all night long
And then I drink and dance a little more~
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Wedding
The father who sired her handed her over
the crack-handed orchestra played
The bride and the groom stood shoulder-to-shoulder
as the ill-starred wedding was made
She lifted her veil as the groom gently kissed her
and all did appear to be well
But the limousine driver heard every harsh whisper
as they drove to the country hotel
In the Grand Hotel ballroom the guests were assembling
the champagne like tapwater flowed
The men wearing top hats, and fop coats and top coats
the women in bustles and bows
The bride? jealous sister sat alone in her place
and sneered as the couple came in
The maitre-de coughed and said ?lease take your places,
the Banquet is about to begin?
The street doors burst open and an army of footman
swept in bearing salvers and trays
Fiddlers and clowns went from table to table
amid black smoke and cigarette haze
Noone saw the best man as he secretly winked
at the bride? jealous sister it seemed
And then cried out ?aiter, Bring me more drink
and more Marilyn Monroe ice-cream?
When the wine had been poured and the tables were cleared
the toasts and the speeches began
The bride and groom cut the cake, everyone cheered!
then all eyes fell on the best man.
He climbed off his chair, and he licked his cracked lips
and declared in a voice cold and dry
??he tricked and hijacked him, with guilt she trapped him
this day is a sham and a lie?
Herfather leapt up with a curse and a roar
and slew the best man in the head
The groom cried ?laggard!?and with a flash of his sword
his father-in-law fell down dead
The bride ran screaming in floods of bright tears
and collapsed at the foot of the stairs
Where her sister was waiting with scissors and shears
and hacked off every inch of her hair.
Up on the roof sat seven fat crows, the moon rose low in the west.
the groom was arrested still in his wedding clothes
And hanged in his pants and his vest
the bald-headed bride bought a ticket to Spain
And eloped with a wig-makers son
while her jealous mad sister, riven with shame
Became a nun!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Always The Bride, But Not The Groom
Always the bride, but not the groom
that is what I became
when I went to a Wedding in October.
We went to the wedding,
then along to the reception.
I stood talking to a couple of friends
and the bride rushed in and said to me.
“Dave look after these for me“
She then commenced to hand me
her bridal bouquet and handbag.
One of our friends Donall
gave me a hug and kiss
and asked me to marry him.
His partner Janice grabbed her camera
and took a photo of me,
bridal bouquet in one hand, handbag in the other
and a lopsided smile from the mouth ulcer I had.
Right there and then I became a bride, but not the groom.
20 November 2008
Author’s note:
I dedicate this poem to:
Janice Windle (who took the photo)
Donall Dempsey (who planted the kiss)
Tara (the real bride for dropping me in it.)
poem by David Harris
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Rural Diversity
Migrant workers..
From Texas to Wisconsin
Fifty years ago..
Coming to where the work
and dreams were plentiful.
A little ale and little sleep
This cultural diversity is a part of
our rural farming history
Past and Present
A young Texan hombre
Finding work and a little pay
Courting a senorita
both from the same tiny Texan town, Cotulla
They marry here in Wisconsin
Their offspring playing
in the fields of their toil.
Most went on to find jobs
in industry; living the blue collar life
making the steel harvesters
that promised to replace the manual labor.
Look in the fields today
Still they come,
but from farther borders
Fifty years later...
coming to where the work
and dreams still smell of promise.
Dedicated to Jose Charo, Sr and Alicia(Salvidar) Charo
in Celebration of their Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary
poem by Celia AmanteaSchulz
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